


won't you echo home

by playwrightfate



Series: Valia Hawke [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mentions of alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 20:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30061086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playwrightfate/pseuds/playwrightfate
Summary: Act III. Hawke hasn’t really seen Anders in days so she’s happy and relieved when he shows up one night at the Hanged Man. Until she isn’t.
Relationships: Anders/Female Hawke (Dragon Age), Anders/Hawke (Dragon Age)
Series: Valia Hawke [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189148
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	won't you echo home

When the door of Varric’s suite clicked open and he appeared, as they were all drinking and playing cards, her heart leaped in her chest, her eyes shot up and even though she had not expected to see him, she realised that she had been waiting all along for this to happen. In an instant she was rising to meet him, thinking a thousand incoherent things. 

_You’re awfully pale. You’re here. You’re thiner. You’re here. You look exhausted. You’re alive._

_I love you._

It was only now–seeing him–that she realised how worried she had been. How tensed in the last few days. 

She did not pay attention to how her friends stopped talking as he entered. Absorbed, she only thought of meeting him at the door now–as if a thread were pulling her forward–where he was silently placing his staff against the wall. 

“Hey,” she said softly, only brushing his elbow as if not to startle him. 

Maker, he was pale. The bags under his eyes soon a possession of their own. 

He smiled. “I thought I might find you here.” 

Anders stiffened for a second, surprised, when, without a word, she wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him down in her embrace for a featherlight kiss, fingers curling at the nape of his neck. He had almost forgotten what all of this felt like. The tenderness of it, a respite, a balm. 

They had only crossed each other’s path a few times in the last week, or maybe even ten days. He was loosing track of time a little. Barely slept together as he had been busy at the clinic and with the other mages. Those he didn’t tell her about. He had also written a lot of his manifesto lately. He found he might be able to finish it after all. That things might finally come together. 

He had expected her to stay distant. But Hawke kept surprising him of course, over and over again. 

Her breath was sweet and slightly tart from the ale she had been drinking for the past three hours. She was definitely tipsy. 

Maybe she would not have welcomed him that way otherwise, he thought.

He felt her words on his mouth as she brushed her lips against his. “And what is that supposed to mean?” 

Her eyes were shining in the low light of the tavern and he thought of how precious every moment he had with her was. How coming back to her was a lifeline. 

He kissed her again. “Only that I thought I might find you here.” 

She rolled her eyes, annoyed and amused and then stared again at the dark circles under his eyes. “You look awful.”

He arched his brows. “Well, thanks?”

“I’m not talking to you,” she said and momentarily untangled one of her hands from his hair to lightly tap under one of his eyes. He blinked but did not lean away. “I’m talking to them. They’re huge, ‘might as well acknowledge their presence.” She tilted her head to get a better look at him. “I met people with less personality than those two.”

Anders shook his head, chuckling. “I call this bullying.”

She feigned outrage. “Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Messere. Those are big accusations you’re throwing around. We’re only making conversation here.”

Varric and Isabela were pretending not to pay attention to them, the game having resumed without Hawke whom they knew may soon want to leave, with him. 

And true, she had forgotten about them a little as she gazed into Anders’ eyes, still finding something luminous and familiar in them. But it was faint.

She suddenly found herself in a strange mood, as if everything had become infinitely slow. The tavern’s racket dimming to an insufferable silence. She swayed a little in his arms and he instinctually gripped her waist tighter. 

_Maker, she had missed him._

“Had one too many?” 

“Pff.“ She dropped her forehead against his chest for a second, craning her head to look at him made her a bit dizzy right now. He had probably grown taller lately. Yes, that was the only logical explanation. “As if there was such a thing as one too many for me.” 

She closed her eyes. She really felt a bit dizzy. 

“My boots seem to remember otherwise,” he said, teasing, alluding to all the times she had thrown up in the close vicinity of his boots because of alcohol or injuries. Very close vicinity. Still, he could see she wasn’t exactly drunk. Or at least not at as drunk as he had ever seen her. 

Head still down, pressed against him, she opened her eyes to look at his shoes. “Since when do boots have a memory? Or the right to speak their mind, uh? You don’t scare me boots,” she added, addressing them directly. 

He huffed out a laugh, pulling her closer. “Well I’m glad I found you.”

She tightened her grip around his neck and looked up at him again, this time planting her chin on his chest. “So that you can bring me back home and have wild—“

He silenced her with another kiss. Isabela snickered, playing her next card without looking at them. 

“No simply to see you.”

Her breath tickled his neck. “Shut up and carry me home already.” 

She saw him wince a little, his grip on her faltering slightly. Hers tightened again in response. “What, think I’m too heavy for you, now? Is that your way of telling me I gained weight? Fine, I’ll walk if you insist,” she tried to say lightly but her tone wasn’t as cheerful as before. She had a bad feeling about his.

“I—I wasn’t actually planning on going home now. I have a meeting with—“

She let go of him instantly and pushing him away, turned around to go sit back around the table. “Fine.”

“Hawke—“

“I said fine.” She threw him a hard, wavering glare. “You saw me, right? You had what you wanted. So go.” She haphazardly gathered some cards from the table. 

His shoulders slumped. He felt a bit stupid. He had seen it coming, but her welcome had reassured him a little, made him think that he could maybe have it all. Isabela and Varric were now staring at him. “It should not last too long tonight. I might be home soon.”

“Ok. Whatever. Go.” She played a card which had no business being played right now. It wasn’t even her turn to play. Nobody said anything. 

“Will you meet me there?”

“‘Will see. Now hurry, or you’ll miss your meeting.” 

He wanted to say something else. He was almost tempted to stay. But instead he took his staff from the wall and opened the door to leave. “See you in a bit?” 

She shrugged and he left. 

She didn’t see him again that night. 

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I love writing silly dialogue for those two, I also have a lot of angst packed for them but I guess it might not come as a surprise for an Anders romance?
> 
> I hope you liked it! Thank you for reading and again, you can find me [@playwright-fate](https://playwright-fate.tumblr.com/) on tumblr :)


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